Picture Perfect
by CassanderRoshack
Summary: John is rooting around through old things when he suddenly finds a box full of pictures of Sherlock from when he was younger. When questioning Sherlock... something happens.


"Sherlock, what the hell is this?" John asked holding up a picture of said man with his hair slicked back, flicking off the camera man, while smoking a cigarette in biker clothing. Sherlock turned his head from across the room to appraise the picture, eyes studying it blankly. "That? Nothing, John." He drawled disinterestedly. The other man raised an eyebrow and he shifted his grip on the box. John picked another picture out and examined it. "You were a blond?!"

The doctor paused at the man evilly eyeing the camera man with a cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. A surfboard was held tightly in his hand. "You surfed?!" Sherlock stood abruptly and strode over to John, snatching the box and pictures out of his reach. "Did your parents never teach you that it was rude to go throw people's things?" His mouth dropped, "I thought it was Mrs. Hudson's!" John protested shutting it again; leaning over his shoulder and snatching up another picture. This time, a younger Sherlock with a military uniform on. "What's this?"

Sherlock frowned, elbowing John to push him away a bit, drawing the box in closer to him. "Watson! They are nothing, give that here!" John took the picture and jumped away a few feet. "Clearly they are something!" He was being very nimble for being so short. "Why would you need to know?" Sherlock placed the box back on the table, turning curtly to face John, staring him down. His eyes narrowed as he slowly offered his hand. "I said give it here."

"Because we've worked together for nearly five years! You've never told me once that you liked surfing or anything else. You were even in the military! As what? A consulting soldier?" He moved away again, knowing he was pushing his luck. Dropping his hand, Sherlock took a deep breath before taking slow steps after John. "Hardly. Me? Fighting for Queen and Country?" He scoffed. "I have never surfed in my life. Clearly you can deduce what those photos are. It's quite obvious." John smiled, "I think I'm right. You are far too young to be working cases. What are you? Sixteen surfing? Eighteen in the biker's jacket? Maybe twenty-one in the platoon?" He chuckled and jumped over the chair he usually sat in, fearing that Sherlock might make a break for him. "I think I've deduced it fine."

His jaw clenched before relaxing, face remaining neutral as he analyzed all of John's escape routes should he need to take him down. "What would you like me to say in order for you to give me that photograph?" Sherlock was hoping to catch him off guard. "Oh nothing, just tell me what you were doing for real." John smiled, realizing what he was doing and planning new ones as he talked. "Maybe Mycroft will tell me. He mentioned about something to do with... a pirate?" Sherlock paused in what his mind was working on, glare zoning in on John, unwavering. Mycroft would pay dearly for telling John. "I was a model." He admitted blandly, as if talking about the weather. "Happy?"

John's mouth dropped open. His mind running a mile a minute. "A model?" Sherlock smirked at his stunned flat-mate, making his way toward him in order to snag the photograph. "Yes, John. That is what I said." The other man regained life suddenly and moved away more, "Whoa, you were a model! That's something! No wonder you're pretty well off!" He chuckled choosing one of the new escape route and taking it. Still holding the picture protectively. John wouldn't admit it, but the picture was rather sexy.

He exhaled, muscles tensing when he saw the warning signs before John took off. Sherlock sprung after him, long legs compensating for John's head start. "Yes. Mother's idea. I meant to please her by following through with it." He explained as he tried to corner the older man. John changed direction at the last minute and slid into the kitchen, putting a table between them. He continued to grin, loving that he was getting all of this out of him. "Mother? Why would she want her darling boy to show off for other people at that age?"

Sherlock wasn't anticipating John's cleverness and had a bit of trouble making the change in direction, slowing him down. He jolted to a halt, straightening up as he stared him down, body going completely still and face neutral. That question...it made him withdraw almost immediately. John was straying into uncharted territory against Sherlock's will, so he refused to offer up a response. John instantly saw Sherlock's face pale. His smile faded and he set the picture down on the table, "I... I'm sorry, here." He slid the picture to him since Mrs. Hudson had cleared off the table yesterday. He swallowed and went to him, "Are you alright?"

His nod was curt and he accepted the photograph, viewing it briefly before his lips turned down at the corners. When he looked up, John was suddenly closer, their previous playing forgotten. "Quite." The lie slid off his tongue with a tone that was devoid of emotion and he turned away from John, going back into the living room to put away to photo and hide the box, or preferably burn it so situations like this did not occur again. John worked his mouth and swallowed, "I'm sorry..." He said again, more softly and wanted to hug the taller.

"It is fine, John." He stated as he closed up the box, head tilted down as he looked at it. Those pictures...he sighed, eyes closing as he began the battle to filing away those memories far back in his mind again. "Fine." John walked up behind him and came to Sherlock's side putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll put it back." He paused mid-action, almost startled by the physical touch and he slid away, snatching up the box as he went. "Unnecessary. I will do it." He did not want John to know where it was. He didn't want anyone to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John sulked continuously throughout the day. He felt terrible about what he did now and couldn't think about what to do about it. Sherlock had ignored the earlier incident, doing his best not to contemplate old memories. The memories that led to his status as an addict, at least. It was difficult considering John was still caught up over it, causing the tension in the house to increase twofold after he ventured back from the part of the flat that he hid the box. Currently, he was sprawled across the couch, eyes closed and the fingers of his left hand tapping on the floor.

"Would you like to borrow my gun?" John said softly, still rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time. Sherlock's eyes blinked open, staring at the ceiling as he processed his words. "Whatever for?" The smaller tried again to read the paragraph, "I know you like to shoot it when you want to get your mind off things." He said with a shrug. "I will have to decline for once." Sherlock stretched languidly before sitting up, limbs arranging themselves naturally into a casual but graceful array. He was still wearing his usual outfit of trousers, dress shirt (top buttons undone, of course), and blazer minus his shoes rather than his dressing gown and pajamas. He looked around the room lazily before resting his gaze on John, who was attempting to read but he hadn't heard the page turn for the past five minutes, so he was obviously getting nowhere. "John. If what occurred before is bothering you still, do not let it."

"I upset you Sherlock because I was being a prat. It was rude and I should have learned by now that you don't talk about your family for a reason." John muttered, shifting in his seat and closing the book. He suddenly realized that left him with nothing to do and picked it up again. "You should have." Sherlock nodded in agreement. "What is done is done." He stood from the couch, striding over to the sandy haired man and snatching the book out of his hands. He threw it over his shoulder, tired of John's failed attempts at reading such petty literature.

"All is forgiven." John looked at him with wide, apologetic eyes. "If you say so." He looked at the book that went flying and hoped it didn't fall into the acid experiment of Sherlock's in the kitchen. Sherlock rolled his eyes, practically reading John's thoughts by the worried look he was casting in the direction of the book. "It's safe. It slid underneath the table. "Though it deserves to be chemically burned, Hemingwell was terrible at citing his work." John kept silent and looked at him. He didn't say anything that was running through his mind at the moment. The consulting detective met John's gaze full on, completely content to just watch John but he knew that something was still bothering the man. "John..."

John looked up at him, the fire he had built earlier doing nothing. He didn't bother looking around and almost got lost in the deep gaze he was giving him. "Why couldn't I just have left things alone? I got greedy... I just wish he'd talk to me..." Sherlock sighed in frustration when he was met with silence rising to his feet. His feet fell naturally into pacing back and forth across the living room, his fingers running through his dark curls as he tried to think of what to do. This was not his forte and he did not know how to fix all that had happened.

John immediately backed tracked, "Sorry... I'll just... go..." He stood and went to leave. Immediately thinking that he was making him angry which he knew Sherlock could only take so much of people. "No!" He cried out in frustration, angry at himself for not knowing what to do. He stepped forward and grabbing a hold of John's wrist, tugging him back. "No. Don't leave." John nearly jumped out of his skin as Sherlock's cold hands wrapped around his wrist. He stopped and looked up at him, almost frightened. "Okay..." He said softly.

Sherlock groaned when he saw the slight fright in John's expression, hand immediately dropping his arm. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say to make this go away. I do not want us to be like this." He stepped forward, going on a whim and wrapping his arms around John, mirroring what people did in those crap telly shows when they were apologizing. John was visibly shocked but hugged him tightly back. "You've been watching telly too much." He chuckled. He felt so terrible for making Sherlock freak out like that. "It's fine; just know that it will not happen again."

Again, physical touching. It was unfamiliar, those arms hugging him tight but he did his best to mimic them. But this was John. John was safe to touch. He tilted his head down, pressing his cheek against the short cropped hair. "You were curious. It is only natural after finding out that your psychopath flat-mate was a model." He smirked. "A highly attractive model, if I do say so myself." John smiled against his chest. "You aren't a psychopath. You're a highly functioning sociopath." He chuckled, "I agree with the statement though. You were and still are."

Sherlock inhaled through his nose, taking in John's scent and filing it away to analyze later. "You think I am attractive?" His smirk deepened, his voice dropping an octave lower. John pulled back to look at him, "Yes, of course. You're very attractive." He loosened his hold on John, moving back a bit as well to be able to look down at him properly but he did not release his hold of him yet. His brow raised, head tilting a bit as he studied his face, smirk seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face. "I see." He grinned as he let John out of the hug and moved away, flopping down onto the couch gracefully, as per usual. He stared at his flat-mate cheekily and said, "I have been told that a lot, as you can imagine. Though it is far more flattering when you say it. Curious."

He shrugged, feeling things return to normal mostly. John grinned, "Curious? You are good looking so it doesn't surprise me at all." The smaller glanced around the room wondering what he should do now. "Ah, but it is curious how I do not care for anyone's opinion but yours." Sherlock had realized that from the very beginning of their friendship. John had been different and had praised his deductive skills rather than putting him down about it. Five years later and he still managed to surprise him. "It is a shame that you did not manage to go through the whole box. There are some shots from some very...interesting photo shoots."

John raised his eyebrows and found the book underneath the table. "Hah..." He smiled and chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I think I can leave my imagination to run wild." He immediately wanted to slap himself for saying it. Oh. Sherlock sat up a little straighter, watching John. "What is your imagination coming up with now, hm?" John cleared his throat and shrugged, "I don't have anything to base it on..." Sherlock hummed lightly, thinking back to very specific points in time in order to not think about that period of his life in too broad of a context. "There had been a situation in which I was hired to pose for a calendar. It was borderline licentious considering it was geared toward lonely army base women."

He frowned as he remembered. "Mycroft set that one up as a joke and tricked me into it." John fumbled with his book from underneath the table, trying very hard to not imagine that because he knew his body would almost instantly betray him. "Oh... Did you... ever enjoy it..." He cleared his throat. The fumbling and discomfort was duly noted by the other. "It was...unsatisfactory at times though I was very entertained by the way people would react just from a silly photograph." He shifted into a more comfortable position. "I do not miss the salacious women after that calendar was released."

"Oh..." He sat back down and crossed his legs, trying to hide the evidence of his thought pattern. "Silly photographs..." Sherlock eyed John as he tried to process why the blogger was acting uncomfortable. An idea popped into his mind and he experimented with it. "Yes. They were very fond of the rifle and briefs look." John's mouth twisted and he bit his bottom lip. "Well, I love hearing about this but I do believe we should call it a night." Sherlock contemplated the idea for a moment. "Call it a night?" He had not slept in...forty-nine and a half hours. "We? You. Sleep is boring." Fighting the exhaustion was a normal occurrence for Sherlock. "I would much rather hear what your imagination can come up with."

John was on the brink of eye-screwing him across the room. "Well I don't think that would be... appropriate." Sherlock stretched out his legs, bringing up his arms to drape them across the back of the couch casually. "Perhaps not, but I am curious. I am very interested." John licked his lips before saying softly, "You, in dogtags actually. Bent over and taking that person until they scream out. You have a whip as well and you crack it repeatedly." John felt his pants tighten and he looks away.

Oh my. He can see the dilation of John's pupils from where he was sitting, the shifting, and the way he cannot keep his eyes on him. Sherlock stares intensely at him, caught off guard by the man's honesty but very, very much so enamored. "I see. You have put thought into that." He shifted again before clearing his throat. "No... Just a random thought." John said quietly, wondering what Sherlock really did look like. Hm. Sherlock stood and walked to John, circling his chair slowly as he inspected the man. He was becoming aroused by the situation suddenly. Sherlock stopped once he was in front of him and knelt much like he had earlier, leaning forward to study John's face in curiosity. "Do you still have your dog tags, John?"

John used the book to cover his lower half from view. "Yes-s... Why?" Sherlock propped his elbows on the smaller's knees, adjusting his position so his lips were beside John's ear. "Would you like for me to wear them?" He gulped and looked at him, "Are you being serious? If you aren't this would be a very cruel joke." John tried to will his raging erection down and made the book push it down. Sherlock was borderline inexperienced with anything to do with sexual encounters, as Mycroft had so eagerly pointed out in Buckingham Palace so long ago, but he was sure. "Yes, of course." He brushed his lips across John's neck, one hand sliding up John's thigh, shoving off the book and pressing against the erection to show just how serious he was. John gasped and groaned at the new pressure against him and almost climbed the seat. "S-Sherlock..." His fingernails went into the chair feeling his flat-mates breath on his neck.

He was encouraged by John's reaction and kissed up his neck slowly, hand squeezing lightly when John said his name. He swallowed again and leaned back, allowing Sherlock more access to the skin of his neck. "You're getting..." He groaned, "Me turned on..." Sherlock nibbled on the soft skin, humming lightly at the taste. "I do believe that is the point." He replied, voice deeper and more guttural than normal. John unfroze his hands from his chair and let one go into Sherlock's hair, knotting it, while the other one continued to make indents into the chair. Sherlock gasped at the pleasant feeling of his hair being tugged lightly as the fingers threaded through it, pausing before touching John's lips tentatively with his own.

John licks his lips, feeling his hesitance. He was gentle, feeling heat pool into his crotch more. The taller pressed their lips together more firmly, sucking gently on John's bottom lip. He sighed contently, palm rubbing down the bulge in John's pants before he brought that hand up cradle the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

John pulled his hair a bit more, using his other hand to touch the underneath his shirt. He almost smiled and enjoyed the taste of his lips. They tasted like Sherlock's favorite peppermint tea that they had just bought. John let the hand skim underneath his shirt and felt smooth pectorals.

He stilled at the touch on his bare skin, hesitating as he processed the feeling. Old memories tried to ruin his concentration but he shoved them off, throwing himself into the kissing with more fever. Sherlock was starting to definitely notice his own erection, and even that startled him marginally. John had awakened something in him that he had thought was not possible for someone like him. John's hand went farther up and he guided his fingertips down his chest, leaving a trail of fire. He took a breath and whispered huskily, "Should we move this to a bedroom? Mrs. Hudson might walk in..." He softly bit his earlobe his other hand.

Sherlock groaned at nipped at John's own earlobe, making unintelligible noises that he hoped sounded like he was agreeing. He was concerned by the fact that he felt like he was losing control. He shakily stood, dragging John up with him and returning his lips to his, forgetting momentarily that he needed to actually move. He pressed himself against the other man, hands pulling on his jumper in a request for John to remove the offending material. He did as the hands demanded and immediately threw the jumper off, pulling the man by what he only referred to as the 'purple shirt of sex' in his mind. John bit his lip gently, being very eager.

Sherlock gasped into the kiss, hands skimming up John's sides. "B-bedroom." He reminded John and himself aloud before detaching himself from John. He grabbed his hand and practically dragged him to his bedroom. As soon as they were both inside, he slammed the door closed and pushed John against it, claiming his lips again, hands exploring the newly discovered skin. John let out a moaned, "I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name." He shivered underneath his cool hands and let his own hands unbutton his shirt. They were so tight he was surprised they hadn't burst off already. Sherlock pressed their pelvises together and rolled his hips. "Fuck, John." The profanity was strange passing his lips but he didn't care. He wanted him. Now.

His fingers flew to his pants, undoing his belt, button, and zipper in no time at all with his nimble musician's fingers. Pushing the trousers down before he rid himself of his own; John would have made a crack about him being a firefighter he'd undressed so quickly but thought better of it. He could barely breath he was so aroused. He started undoing his own belt, seeing the man in nothing but his shirt now. He made quick work of his shirt, completely void of any feelings of discomfort at being naked in front of John. Sherlock wanted, wanted so bad. He couldn't wait for John to finish getting his trousers off before he was focusing his attention on the man's neck, needing to be touching him.

John let the tension run down his spin, he wanted Sherlock and his belt came off practically like a rip cord. He moaned again, sounding completely whorish and ground his hips into Sherlock's. "God, I want you!" Voicing both of their needs and ending any last thoughts of stopping. His hand undid the button and he took his pants off, pausing briefly at his red underwear and flushed for a moment.

He gave control to what his body wanted. "J-John!" Sherlock panted as he ground his hips against Sherlock's-that feeling was exquisite. His erection throbbed, seeking friction. He stepped back before directing John towards the bed, shoving him backwards onto it. As he climbed onto the bed after him, he grinned at John's underwear choice. "Red, John?"

"Well I uh... Didn't expect to be having such a..." He groaned again as Sherlock climbed on top of him. "You weren't wearing any anyway..." The taller left open mouthed kisses down his neck, nibbling on his collarbone before moving down to his chest and tasting the skin there. "Having such a what, John?" Sherlock asked huskily, propping himself up with one arm and trailing his fingers from John's sternum to the waistband of his briefs. "Having such an unbelievable sex experience that I could almost cum just looking at you." John licked his lips after the rushed sentence, seeing Sherlock's cock and honestly wanting to let him do terrible things with it.

Sherlock couldn't respond. His eyelids became hooded as he peppered kisses down to where his hand was, body scooting back to settle between John's legs. He sat up, hooking his fingers around the waistband of the briefs and pulling them down. John's lips formed an 'o' as Sherlock pulled his underwear down. They caught on his erection ever so slightly, making it bounce. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath at the sight of his proud erection before wrapping his fingers around the base. He looked up and down Sherlock, his hairless pale body one of the sexiest pieces he'd ever seen. Like something carved from marble. John let out a soft whimper as the man's fingers connect with his cock. It felt heavenly and almost painful.

He leaned down and blew gently on the flesh, eyes flicking up to look at John's face as he closed his lips around his cock. He sucked gently, tongue swirling around the tip. The doctor's eyes rolled back into his head as Sherlock's hot mouth encased his cock and he couldn't breathe for a moment. "God..." He gasped, his hands finding their way back into his hair. Sherlock feasted upon the sight John was offering him, cheeks hollowing as he bobbed his head. He was not completely sure what to do, he was inexperienced, but he was encouraged that he was doing something right. His hand paid attention to the portion of John's cock that he did not have in his mouth. His own erection twitched at the erotic scene and he hummed in need.

The hums sent sparks up his body and John gasped, "Sherlock-k... gonna..." He continued to suck in air, trying to keep his calm now he didn't cum in the detective's mouth without warning him. "...cum...!" He couldn't hold much longer. Sherlock hummed again in response, sucking encouragingly, taking in as much of his divine cock into his mouth as possible. John gasped and came into Sherlock's mouth, letting out a loud yell that more than likely woke the neighbors. "Damn..."

Seeing John come undone was very satisfying to Sherlock and he knew that, even though the feeling of his cum in his mouth was slightly unpleasant, he was undoubtedly do it again if it pleased him that much. Unsure, he swallowed before releasing his cock and sitting back up, panting as he watched John recover. "Any good?" He asked hesitantly, not completely sure if he had done that right.

"V-Very G-good..." John stuttered repeatedly. "That may have been the best blow job I've ever had kinda good." He thought and had to take a few calming breaths. There were a few drops of cum on Sherlock's lips and it looked absolutely sexual. As someone had once said, 'Suddenly, he's the sex.' Sherlock licked his lips, pleased that he had done it correctly. His eyes slid closed as he took in deep breaths, the pressure in his own erection unbearable. He groaned, hips twitching as his body tried to get him to find friction again as a breeze from the drafty house brushed across it. Cracking his eyes open, Sherlock gazed at John hazily, flushing.

"Let's take care of you..." John whispered, his breath coming with out in steam now they could both see it. The room was cold and they were just barely keeping each other warm with their activity. Sherlock bit his lip as he clambered closer to John, drawing him up to give him a passionate kiss. He pulled away after a few moments, leaning his forehead against his as his eyes closed again. "P-please." He pleaded desperately, needing release.

"How do you want me... or do you want me... doing something else?" John asked, trailing his hands on the inside of his thighs, but not touching the rock hard extension of his body. His hips bucked and he moaned, hands gripping John's shoulders. The virgin sensitivity driving him practically up the walls. "I..I j-just...please." He couldn't think straight, he just knew he needed something. John leaned up, taking his lips with his and kissing him with force. "Put it inside me… Lay down and..." He'd never thought he'd say this in his life time, "I'll ride you."

Sherlock gasped and pulled away, eyes blown wide as he stared at John, processing the words. The man really hadn't really expected that. He allowed John to ravish his lips, manhandling him briefly to pull him up and switch their positions, fingers raking up the man's back. John chuckled and now straddling Sherlock's hips. He could feel the heat below him and he swallowed. The other man's cock was dripping with pre-cum and he swallowed before saying softly, "You know, we forgot the dogtags, but this is by far better than what I had imagined." He prompted himself on his knees and prepared himself by his fingers. He gasped, looking directly at Sherlock while he did it.

He chuckled throatily as John reminded him of his fantasy. "N-next time." He murmured, words making a promise that there definitely would be a next time. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, hand curling around his own erection, pumping it slowly, a moan stifled in the back of his throat. "Fuck, John. Y-you're so...so..." His mind went completely blank for once and John smiled gently at him. "I'll guide you in." He kissed him and rose up a bit, lining himself up as he reached between their bodies and grasped Sherlock's erection. Using the other hand to take the man's away from the erection. He was nervous but he didn't allow himself to tense up as he relaxed his thighs and descended until he felt the tip of the organ pressing against him. "Can you brace my hips?"

John's teeth worried his lower lip and his eyes squeezed shut as he sank further down. He gasped when the head of Sherlock's shaft eased past the ring of muscle. Pausing for a deep breath, he waited for his body to adjust and then sank down until the cap was inside of him. The hardest part was over with. Now that the initial breaching was complete the rest would be easier. John reopened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. The expression on that angelic face nearly made him lose his common sense. "You're fucking huge…" John moaned, biting his lip as he was filled and stretched with Sherlock's throbbing length.

"You're so damned tight," Sherlock countered, clenching his jaw and taking quick, sharp breaths as the unbelievable pleasure of feeling John's arse squeezing him nearly made him come undone. The smaller sank all the way down, taking him up to the hilt. For a moment they stayed that way with their quickened breath intermingling like their bodies were. Then John kissed Sherlock slowly and began to move. The detective's bright blue eyes were stunned the other carefully rode his cock, looking directly into his eyes whilst doing so.

His thoughts were broken as John's gripping heat milked him steadily. The smaller moaned his name and Sherlock was overcome with lust and pleasure. He bucked his hips hard, driving his hardness in deep and stroking the prostate in passing. John cried out sharply and clutched at his shoulders, the short nails pressing grooves into the skin. The mild pain of it only excited Sherlock more and he uttered a curse and gripped John's hips firmly.

John howled incoherently as his partner lifted him up and slammed him down again, while bucking upwards at the same time. Retaining some semblance of awareness, Sherlock exerted some control over his thrusts, smoothing them so that they weren't too sharp or uneven. He rose up a little to give himself room to touch his smaller companion, running his hands over John's sweating torso and stomach. He watched the doctor's erection slap against his belly as he took him and he couldn't resist petting it. John writhed and whimpered, his hands desperately grabbing any part of Sherlock's body as he pumped steadily and firmly. Sherlock watched his dick plunging in and out of John's body and the sight made him come even closer to an orgasm.

John's breath hitched as Sherlock's thrusting sex and stroking hand brought him closer to his peak. He looked up at the detective and saw the way the thick, black lashes were lowered. When he realized that Sherlock was watching his shaft thrusting in and out of him, he lost control and arched his back. John hollered his lover's name again as he came in several thick spurts, splattering both Sherlock and himself. He closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure as John's body clenched rhythmically around his cock as a result of the orgasm.

Several seconds later Sherlock came hard into John, gasping loudly and leaving them both collapsed in a heap. The smaller rested his head on his chest trying to catch his breath, "That… was…" The other laughed a little, "Amazing? Extraordinary?" John nodded repeatedly and let out a content sigh, "Yes." Sherlock turned away from them and picked up his phone. Before John asked what he was doing, he put down the phone again and smirked, "The whip is on it's way."


End file.
